


The Haircut

by noelroeimfisher



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, M/M, but i guess they have their own apartment idk idk, but not that far in the future probably, ian being a tease, ian being cute, mickey being TICKLISH, mickey being angsty, mickey being blushy, mickey being self-conscious, mickey being smiley, mickey calling ian "mr. haircut man" but means "barber", mickey calling ian "soldier", the tiniest amount of smut possible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:10:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1785232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noelroeimfisher/pseuds/noelroeimfisher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mickey gets an unfortunate haircut and Ian reminds him that he is still beautiful no matter what.</p><p>"Gonna take the hat off and stay awhile, big guy?"</p><p>[[age-otori (Japanese) – n. the state of looking worse after a haircut]]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Haircut

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: smirky-smirkovich :)

“Hey.”

“Hey, Mick!” Ian leaped from the couch to greet his boyfriend, relieved to have a reason to turn off whatever shitty weekday TV show he had been watching to pass the time.

His face lit up (even further, if that was possible) when he saw that Mickey was wearing the hat he had gotten for him a few weeks before. Mickey had been going on and on about how fucking cold his precious ears were, so Ian bought it when he was out with Mandy one day. But Mickey hadn't actually worn it until today.

“Nice hat.” Ian was beaming, but was cautiously side-eyed in response, as Mickey threw his coat into the coat pile in the corner. They’d get hooks someday, probably.

“…Yeah, uh…whatev–…thanks. It’s cold.” He dodged Ian, plowing through the living room and into the kitchen, in a futile attempt to make the hat’s presence less conspicuous. But since wearing a hat when it’s cold doesn't constitute unusual behavior, Mickey’s oddly evasive response did nothing but foster an incredibly tangible level of _weirdness_ in the room.

“Yeah…?”

Mickey grabbed a beer from the fridge and slammed the door shut before returning to the living room to collapse on the couch, his head on one armrest and his feet on the other. The hat stayed put.

But Mickey doesn’t really wear hats. Something about them being itchy or whatever, Ian didn’t really get it. And Mickey certainly never kept a hat on any longer than necessary. Maybe it was negative a million degrees outside and maybe they needed to fix the heater, but Mickey walking around the apartment in a hat as though it was normal was definitely not normal. Ian considered questioning it further, but was too in love with the way it made Mickey’s deep blue eyes even bluer, and promptly decided against it.

“How was your day?” Ian lifted Mickey’s legs to sit on the couch, lowering them into his lap, as he began to fidget with the hem of Mickey’s jeans.

“Shitty.”

Ian’s brows furrowed. “Shitty how?” He began untying Mickey’s shoes, dropping the left one to the floor.

“Just shitty.”

“Kev being needy again?” He dropped the other shoe to the floor.

“Jesus, Ian, it was just shitty, okay?” Mickey took another sip of his beer and closed his eyes, massaging his temples with his fingers. He was more annoyed with himself than anything else.

And sometimes Mickey didn’t like to talk about his day or how he was feeling, but despite how difficult that occasionally made things, Ian knew that if it was important, he’d say it when he was ready. For now, Ian was fine with just changing the subject for him.

“You wanna eat?” He could feel the tension parting with Mickey’s body.

Mickey’s eyes popped open as his eyebrows jumped up. “You cooked?”

“If boiling water and adding some noodles and butter and powdered cheese counts as cooking…yes.”

Mickey grinned as he downed the last of his beer. “It does.”

 

…

 

“You know, I think technically it's bad manners to wear a hat at the dinner table,” Ian smirked.

“Yeah, says who?”

“I don’t know, society?”

“Fuck society, it’s cold.”

“Yeah…”

The hat stayed for dinner.

 

…

 

“Gonna take the hat off and stay awhile, big guy?” Ian mumbled between gentle kisses across his boyfriend’s chest and tummy, his hand lazily palming Mickey through his boxers before dragging them down his legs and dropping them to the floor.

“No.” Mickey’s voice was tiny as he reached for Ian’s face, bringing him in for a deep kiss to put an end to his fucking stupid line of questioning, but it didn’t last long.

“Mick, I’m not fucking you with just a hat on, come on.” In Ian’s book, just a hat was like just socks. In a way, it’s really not necessary to remove your socks during sex. But at the same time, it definitely is. Hats too, he decided.

“I’m cold.” 

“You’re naked."

“Fuck off.”

“Come on, I’ll warm you up,” Ian laughed, reaching for the hat, only to be swatted away.

“Last I checked, it is possible to wear a hat and get fucked by your boyfriend at the same time,” Mickey grinned, thinking his minor foray into dirty talk and his use of the b-word would be enough to coax Ian to move on. He was wrong.

“Ok, but why are y– ?”

“I thought you fuckin’ liked the hat?!”

“I _love_ the hat. Take it off.” Ian tried to grab it again, but Mickey quickly plastered his hands to the top of his head, holding it securely in place. Ian tugged at Mickey’s fingers for a moment, but it was clear that was a battle he would not win, so he decided to take a different approach, reaching down to poke at Mickey’s sides, tickling where he knew Mickey was the most sensitive. As usual, this proved to be a highly successful technique, and it wasn’t more than a few seconds before Mickey was begging him to stop, his hands still resolute on his own head.

“Okay, okay….fuck, stop! Stop. Okay…just. Just don’t laugh, ok?

Ian abruptly stopped tickling and his eyes narrowed, cocking his head to the side, and sitting up on Mickey’s hips. “What am I not laughing at?

“I uh…I…got a…a haircut.”

“…so?”

“A bad haircut, douchebag,” he laughed, smacking Ian’s ass.

“Let’s see.”

Mickey gingerly removed the hat from his head, avoiding Ian’s gaze as Ian reached out to run his fingers through his hair. 

Upon inspection, it was definitely not a good look. Kind of patchy on one side, and there was a borderline mullet situation going on in the back.

“I hope you didn’t pay for this shit,” he laughed. 

Mickey playfully pushed at his chest. “Fuck you!”

Ian smiled. “Okay, it's not the best, but you're still you.”

“I look like shit.”

“Impossible.”

“You seriously don't care that I look like a fuckin’ freak?”

“Mick, you could dye it blonde and get a mohawk for all I care, I don’t give a shit.”

Mickey bit his lip, fighting back a shy smile. “Well I can’t be fuckin’ walkin’ around like this.”

“Nobody fuckin’ asked you to. You have tomorrow off, don’t you?”

“In case you haven’t heard, hair doesn’t grow back in one day, Ian.”

“So we’ll fix it tomorrow. Quit being such a fucking girl about your hair, Mick.” Ian teased, shifting to kiss Mickey’s chest again. “Man up and let me fuck you,” he smirked, biting down on Mickey’s warm skin.

 

…

 

“Hey, why’d you even get your hair cut anyways?” Mickey’s head was resting on Ian’s chest as Ian ran his fingers through his sated boyfriend’s weird hair. 

“Needed a cut,” he mumbled into Ian’s skin.

“Mmm. Don’t you usually just do it yourself?..........Mick?”

“Whatever, I wanted to.”

“Hmm?”

“You heard me.”

“Yes but I don’t believe you.”

“I thought you might like it if my hair actually looked okay for once, but I fucked up and now I look even shittier than before."

Ian shifted their positions so Mickey was on his back and Ian was above him again.

“You're beautiful.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “Don’t call me that.”

“What do you want? Handsome?”

“Whatever.”

“Fine. You’re very handsome.” But Mickey still scoffed.

“Mickey, I’ll use whatever words you want me to use, but I need you to know how perfect you are.” The intensity of his stare was threatening to be too much for Mickey, so he added, with a smile, “…even with this dumb haircut.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey rolled his eyes again, but could not possibly have stopped blushing if he tried.

 

…

 

The first order of business the following morning was to deal with Mickey’s hair. Or the second order of business if you count the hour they spent making each other feel good after waking up, but that’s a given.

They decided pretty quickly after seeing it in the harsh light of day that the only real solution was a buzz cut. And Mickey was in luck, because Ian was quite experienced with buzz cuts after his time in the army.

“How’s it goin’ up there, soldier?”

Ian smiled at one of his favorite nicknames. “Good. You’re gonna love it.”

Mickey sat on the edge of the tub while Ian worked his magic, locks of dark brown hair falling to the towel they’d placed on the floor, while gentle words of affection fell from Ian’s lips. That he loved Mickey with bad hair and with good hair. That there wasn’t a haircut in the world that could make Mickey anything less than perfect. True to form, Mickey rolled his eyes throughout the whole procedure. But he was trying not to blush or to allow a big goofy smile to creep across his face, and he failed miserably at both things, many times.

Finally, Ian took a step back, admiring his handiwork.

“S’it okay?”

“You look fuckin’ hot, Mick.” Ian grinned, grabbing Mickey’s hands to pull him up, kissing him for a moment before turning him around, placing his hands on Mickey’s hips, and guiding him toward the mirror.

Ian stood behind him, resting his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder, still smiling.

“I guess it’s better." 

“Fuck you of course it’s better, _I_ did it!!” Ian poked at Mickey’s sides, kissing his cheek before returning his chin to Mickey’s shoulder.

“Yeah, well don’t go gettin’ a big head or anything, Mr. Haircut Man.” It was one of those moments where Mickey couldn’t possibly have been smiling more grandly, and Ian loved how frequent those moments had become.

“I believe it’s called a barber,” Ian laughed, bringing his hands upwards to feel the soft prickliness of Mickey’s short hair. “Mmmmm, I hope you don't mind me constantly stroking your head, because that's gonna be happening.”

“Alright, alright keep your fuckin’ weird fetishes to yourself, man,” Mickey laughed, but it felt nice to have Ian’s fingers dancing across his head, so he made no attempt to push him away or even to stop smiling like a fucking idiot. And when Kev would inevitably tease him about the new hairstyle, he would receive a definite “fuck you” and probably a middle finger too, because this was moment was between Mickey and Ian and it would stay that way forever.

**Author's Note:**

> this was my third fic, did you like it???  
> thanks for reading (◡‿◡✿)  
> tumblr: smirky-smirkovich


End file.
